


Paroxysm

by rosievmc



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosievmc/pseuds/rosievmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'A sudden violent emotion or action that cannot be controlled.' Ask anyone to describe Hazel Murphy and you can guarantee it'll be something along the lines of 'volatile', especially if they know that she can move things with her mind. With the Alpha Pack coming to town and strange sacrificial killings, can she keep control over her power whilst trying to help her friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"It is not a double - triple, whatever - date. It's a group thing." Lydia says, looking over at Allison who a second ago let out a low groan when Lydia finally let slip that we were on the way to hang out with some boys.

"Do they know it's a group thing? 'Cause I told you that I'm not ready to get back out there." Allison says to Lydia, before she turns to face me sat in the backseat of Lydia's blue Toyota and I can't hide the smirk from my features as I try not to laugh. Lydia has always been the type to intervene when she thinks that others are in need of her help - regardless of whether they actually need it or not.

"You were in France and didn't do any dating for four months?" I notice Lydia arch her eyebrows in the rear view mirror at Allison.

"I mean, god Ally. How dare you not date anyone?!" I chime in from the backseat, sarcasm practically dribbling down my chin following my words.

"Did you? I mean, after…" I wave my hand in front of my throat, trying to warn Allison off, but before she even sees my hand gesture, Lydia's beaten me to it.

"Do not say his name." She says, and grips the steering wheel a little tighter as she shakes off the memory of Jackson Whittemore.

"Is he okay? I mean, did everything work out?" Allison asks in a soft voice, and she certainly has more courage than I do asking Lydia about Jackson when it's pretty apparent that she's not in the mood to talk about him, but I've never been the type to pressure people into opening up as I don't like to reveal too much to others myself.

"Didn't the doctors look like a bunch of morons when oops, he's not dead at all!" I started, and Lydia glances at me through the rear view mirror, her eyes aren't narrowed so I take it that I'm not overstepping by talking about him.

"And he's been taught the werewolf 101, like how not to randomly kill people during a full moon." Lydia adds.

"So then you've talked to him?" Allison asks, and I try not to cringe as I wait for Lydia's anger to creep back in at the thought of the kanima-turned-werewolf.

Lydia rolls her lips together before she speaks, "Uh, not since he left for London."

"You mean since he dad moved him to London." Allison corrects her, trying to defend Jackson. But after everything that happened to him, I'm pretty sure it wouldn't have taken much convincing for Jackson to agree to the move.

"Whatever, he left. And seriously, an American werewolf in London? Like, that's not gonna be a disaster." And just like that, Lydia's usual breezy tone returns.

"So you're totally over him?" asks Allison, and I watch as Lydia's shoulders seem to tense up.

"Would I be going on a group date if I wasn't?" Lydia blurts out in frustration at the conversation about Jackson, and then she sighs realising she's admitted that we're not just heading to some kind of group hang. "Yes, it is a group date. It's not an orgy. You'll live." I start laughing at the thought of my precious, pristine cousin at an orgy. Completely out of place, and probably with a dainty hand clasped over her eyes as she shouted at everyone to put some clothes on and clean all the surfaces they might have touched with any naked flesh.

We pull up to a red light, and I recognise Stiles' Jeep before the other two do and a second later Allison turns to say something to Lydia, but starts to panic at the sight of Scott sat in the passenger seat of the car next to us.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. I can't see him, not now." She rambles in a panic and I wave at the boys with a grin, revelling in this horrendously awkward moment. Apparently Stiles and I are the only two who are approaching the awkwardness with anything other than avoidance.

"Lydia go! Just go!" Allison pleads.

"But the light." Lydia tries to reason with her best friend, but Allison is about four seconds away from being unable to breathe with her panicking and so just as Stiles winds down the passenger window we're shooting ahead, straight through the red light and I turn to look back at them as we speed away.

"Ally, what was all that about?" I ask, perhaps a little insensitively. Lydia shoots me a look in the mirror before asking Allison if she's okay.

"Lydia, stop. We need to go back and talk to them." Allison says a few moments later, and Lydia slows to a halt. I turn my head to look behind us, and Stiles' blue Jeep grinds to a halt about fifty yards behind us.

"They've stopped too." I say, turning back to look at Lydia and Allison who exchange confused looks before they both turn to look at me.

"Why would they stop?" Allison asks to no-one in particular.

"It's Stiles and Scott. Do you really wanna try applying logic to those two?" She asks Allison, not really managing to hide the fact that she's a little surprised she even had to ask that question.

"Let's head back to where they are, Ally you need to speak to him eventually." I say, and just as Lydia is about to put her foot on the accelerator pedal to move the car to turn around something appears in the headlights of her car, racing towards us at impressive speed. It shows no sign of slowing, and just as it's close enough to see that the animal charging our way is a deer, I realise it's not going to stop. It's going to run right into us. Everything is moving too fast, and my ears are filled with the screams from my friends in the front of the car as the deer collides with the windscreen, spraying us all in tiny shards of glass.

I'm gasping for air, the wind knocked out of me through pure shock and I don't move until Stiles throws open the car door and reaches over me to undo the seatbelt. He wraps his arm around my frame and helps me out of the car and all I can do is stare straight ahead of myself silently. I can't form logical thoughts.

_ A deer just ran headfirst into the car. The car we were sat in. It ran into us. _

I may be staring straight ahead at the bushes at the side of the road, but all I can see are the eyes of that animal. Wild, completely freaked out. Like it had seen a ghost.

Scott is stood next to Allison, asking her if she's okay. And Stiles still has an arm around me, but asks all of us if we're hurt. I shake my head, but don't say a word.

"It came out of nowhere. Ran right into us." Lydia is saying. I don't know if she's really talking to anyone specific, but more trying to process what just happened to us.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks again, and Allison assures him she is.

"Well, I'm not okay. I am totally freaking out. How the hell does it just run into us? I saw it's eyes right before it hit us. It was like it… it was like it was crazy." Lydia babbles at us in a panic, and I'm glad that I'm not the only one who saw the look in it's eyes.

Scott leaves Allison's side and walks toward the front of the car where the deer is halfway through the windscreen of the car. He tilts his head to the side a little as he tunes into his werewolf senses, and then he turns to look at us with a frown, "No, it was scared. Actually… terrified."

Safe to say, the triple date got cancelled. Once Lydia's car was towed away and we'd spoken to Sheriff Stilinski about what had happened we all piled into Stiles' Jeep and he drove us all home, and after dropping everyone off in order of proximity to Stiles' own home, we were left with just the two of us in his car, as I live the closest to the Stilinski household.

"I know this might be a strange request, and I don't want to make it weird but, can I stay on your couch or something tonight?" I finally blurt out, after trying to work out how to ask for the past twenty minutes of us dropping our friends off home.

Stiles just turns to look at me and raises an eyebrow, clearly confused about why I don't want to go home.

"It's the first day of school tomorrow, and you wanna spend your night sleeping on a lumpy couch?" He asks, pulling the Jeep over at the side of the road, a few houses down from my house. His house is another two houses down from mine. "You know you don't have to take the couch, you never have done before." I roll my eyes at him, I was only being polite by suggesting I take the couch, I didn't think he'd mention the fact that we both know full well I need no invitation to drag myself into his bed. It's become second nature to just make myself at home in the Stilinski house.

"I just don't feel like facing my mother after the whole deer scare thing," I say, looking down at my hands in my lap, and one hand begins pulling on threads at the rip in my jeans.

I'd stayed over at Stiles' house plenty of times before, mostly after parties and such with some others, and even on my own when we spent too much time working on a project and realising that it's 1am and neither of us can be bothered to leave the room where we've been sprawled across the floor working all night anyway. We'd never been the type to be awkward about the boundaries of our friendship, and sharing a bed was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite the fact that all of our friends had raised eyebrows at us curiously whenever I turned up wearing Stiles' shirt because I'd been too lazy to run two houses down to my own in the morning.

"Sure, okay." He smiles, understanding just why I'm too tired to deal with my mother tonight.

My mother, a widow. Jane Murphy is a handful, to put it lightly. She's what people call "eccentric", litters the house with burning incense, exotic 'artefacts' which are probably just cheap knock-offs in reality, and a hell of a lot of crystals. I mean there are crystals literally everywhere. She believes in all kinds of energies, beings, spirits, you name it and my mother believes in it. It started long before I started showing signs of being able to manipulate objects with my mind. My mother has always been a believer of the weird and wonderful, and she is over-enthusiastic about my abilities to the point that it almost drives me insane sometimes. I have a brother, Findlay. My brother is quiet in large groups of people, but when you're alone with him he reveals just how intelligent and wonderful he is. He has a very similar sense of humour to mine, and we love nothing more than to roll our eyes at each other across the table whenever mom says something ridiculous.

Alexander Murphy, my father, was murdered almost two years ago. It was supposedly some strange "animal attack" but honestly I don't even think the people in Beacon Hills who are completely unaware of werewolves and kanimas and all kinds of creatures fully believe that excuse any more. I still don't know who murdered my father, but I am determined that I will get my revenge, and it can't come soon enough.

I'm glad that Sheriff Stilinski hasn't returned home before us when we walk into Stiles' house, purely because I'm not sure I could deal with his sly little smile every time he sees me walk into his home. I'm pretty convinced he thinks something is going on with me and his son, and no amount of telling him seems to make him believe any different. I know this house like the back of my hand, and I don't even wait for Stiles to head up to his room where I find an old shirt of his and pull it on with a pair of his lacrosse shorts. I crawl into bed and pull the comforter up over my head and curl up into a little ball, trying to get the eyes of that deer out of my head. A few minutes pass before I hear Stiles pad into the room, and when I peak out of the covers he's holding a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows in front of me with a smile on his face.

"For the distressed young lady, a beverage."

"Such a dork," I mutter under my breath as I sit up and take the cup from him, "Thank you," I add. Honestly, being paired with this kid as my lab partner in junior high was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.

* * *

The next day, our first day back after summer, English class starts with an awkward encounter, as Lydia and Allison enter the classroom last, and with only two seats left in the room they end up separated. The only seat left for Allison is one directly in front of Scott, and I cringe as the two of them try to pretend that everything is completely okay as Allison sits down in the seat. Stiles and I put our thumbs up at Scott and grin at Scott stuttering away at Ally telling her the seat is "totally vacant" and we look at each other and try our hardest not to laugh at how uncomfortable the situation is. I'm sure we should feel bad about the way those two are tiptoeing around each other, but we laugh at stupid videos of people falling over or getting hit in the face with a baseball, y'know that usual crap you probably shouldn't laugh at.

Before the teacher walks through the door, every phone in the room begins to buzz and beep with news of a text message.

_ "The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness." _

A voice comes from the doorway, reading out the message. I look up to find a woman with long dark hair in a pristine half up half down hairstyle and typical teacher clothes you expected from Miss Honey in Matilda.

"This is the last line to the first book we are going to read. It is also the last text you will receive in this class. Phones off, everyone." She says. And I feel like maybe I'm going to enjoy English class this year, she's already got my attention for sure.

We're about halfway through the lesson when we're interrupted by a knock at the door, and Scott is called out of class. The four of us he's leaving behind exchange glances, wondering what the hell might be going on. If this were any normal school, and if any of us had been experiencing normal things for the past year then maybe we wouldn't be as curious as to why Scott was being called out of class. But Beacon Hills is not normal, and none of us is anymore either.

Ever the procastinator, Stiles gets distracted and notices the bandage around Lydia's leg. He makes a small noise to attract her attention before he speaks, "Hey, Lydia. What is that? Is that from the accident?" He whispers to her, and she seems reluctant to answer. I already know the answer, she text me about it this morning, complaining that it was ruining her outfit.

"No. Prada bit me." She finally replies, and her expression already tells me that she wants her answer to satisfy Stiles enough that he'll shut up.

"Your dog?" He presses on.

"No, my designer handbag. Yes, my dog." Her whisper's tone changes, to that of annoyance as she narrows her eyes at Stiles before returning her gaze to her open notebook.

"Has it ever bitten you before?"

"Mm-mm." Lydia rolls her lips inwardly and shakes her head. Stiles is going somewhere with this, and then it clicks just before he explains.

"Okay. What if it's, like, the same thing as the deer? You know, like, how animals start acting weird right before an earthquake or something?" Stiles leans forward, trying to get Lydia to actually look up from her work without her being completely reluctant to entertain this conversation. I stay quiet, mulling the idea over in my head.

"Meaning what? There's gonna be an earthquake?"

"Maybe not. But maybe it means something's coming." I pipe up, and they both turn to look at me.

"Something bad." Stiles adds, for good measure.

"It was a deer and a dog. What's that thing you say about threes? Once, twice…" and just like clockwork, before Lydia can finish her sentence a bang comes at the window and a large black bird falls down from the place where it collided with the window, leaving a smear of blood on the point of impact.

Everyone falls deathly silent, and Miss Blake approaches the window slowly, where everyone's attention is now trained on. A murder of crows approaches, hundreds of them. It's like the deer all over again and I'm on the floor before anyone else is as they begin to smash against the window, some of them breaking through sending shards of glass into the classroom. Pieces scratch against my arms as I cover my head with them, and I'm not the only one crying out at the pain.

I can't even make out the words that people are shouting, it's all just noise collecting with the horrid screeching of the birds. It feels like a lifetime that we're all left huddling together beneath desks, behind bookshelves. But eventually the final bird is laid on the floor motionless and people slowly begin to stand from their hiding places. The room is destroyed, and there is blood everywhere. People with scratches all over their legs, arms and some even have them on their faces.

I don't know whether Lydia believed the theory that Stiles had before, but she can't ignore it now. Something very strange is happening here in Beacon Hills, and no supernatural power is needed to feel it. We were foolish to ever believe that our lives had returned to normal this summer.

I find my over-turned chair and pick it back up, shakily sitting down on it and putting my head between my knees while I try to calm myself down. I can't even comprehend the level of freaking out that I am on. Deer, birds, and Prada. This is something we've never even heard of, and I can just sense that I'm not over-reacting, this is not just some pre-earthquake scare. This is supernatural. And it feels much more ominous than anything we've faced so far.

I keep my hands locked together, scared that any sudden movement might cause something around me to explode and I can't afford for that to happen here in front of everyone. Lydia crouches down next to me, and places a hand on my knee.

"Just take deep breaths H, it's okay." She says in a quiet voice, knowing full well that it's taking everything in me not to lose control in front of our classmates. Were it just me and her I could just let go and take the risk that I might blow something up, or even just move something. Lydia has never once judged my abilities, and she kept them secret from everyone, until of course I couldn't keep the secret myself any longer. But only the pack know.

It's not long before the Sheriff, and Chris Argent, have arrived. I hear Chris telling Allison to trust her gut next time and to just stay at home when she feels like she should. But what's a little crazy-induced trauma to get your school year started hey?

"Mr. Argent, you wouldn't have any insight into this, would you?" Sheriff Stilinski asks, after speaking to a few of the students to get some statements, which is now left to one of the deputies.

"Me?" Chris looks a little confused, clearly well practiced at pretending he's not one of the most skilled werewolf hunters in the country.

"Yeah, all this bizarre animal behaviour, it's… you must have seen something like this before, right?

"I'm not sure why I would or why you think I would." His tone is icy, and I can't honestly say that I've ever been fully comfortable around Allison's dad, he is one of the scariest men I have ever come across.

"I'm sorry. I-I could've sworn I overheard my son talking about how you were an experienced hunter." The Sheriff seems apologetic, wondering if he's overstepped his mark by asking such questions. But Chris' expression softens a little and he smiles.

"Ah, right. Well, not anymore." He says, and turns back to his daughter.

I finally stand, and approach Stiles who is on the phone. It doesn't take a genius to guess who he is speaking to.

I stand a little off to the side of him and wait for him to finish talking to Scott, listening in nosily. "We got a serious problem at school, Ms. Blake's class… Well, no, pretty sure this qualifies for immediate discussion… Derek's house?! What the hell are you doing at… Yeah, right, okay."

"Derek's house?!" I demand when he clicks the end call button on his phone.

Stiles just rolls his eyes at first, "I know. McCall has lost his mind. Hey, you okay, Haze?"

I nod at him, and offer a somewhat disappointing attempt at a smile, "Yeah, just a little freaked out. It's fine, I just need to get out of here before I blow up a bookcase."

"Well, you could come to the Hale house, it's a shit-hole anyway, no harm done if you blow something up." Stiles suggests, offering me a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder and shake my head at his constant berating of anything to do with Derek Hale.

"Sure, but I'm sure you're only asking me to come to protect you from that intense glare Derek loves directing your way." I tilt my head a little to the side and raise an eyebrow at him, and he just frowns at me.

"I am not scared of Derek Hale. And I don't need some skinny little redhead to protect me."

I don't even have a response to his lame attempt at an insult, I just shoot my fist out at his arm as hard as I can, and laugh when he cries out and rubs his arm with an even bigger frown than before.


	2. Chapter 2

_I didn't want to return to Beacon Hills. I begged and pleaded with Deucalion for us not to come back here, but he doesn't listen to anyone, let alone the lowest ranking alpha in his pack. I'm the youngest, and I've only been an alpha for a little over a year so as far as he's concerned I'm pretty much just an accessory to flush out the pack a little. Deucalion caught whispers of a Kanima being in Beacon Hills, and that was it. The decision was made, we were going to search for it. Only to find we were too late, but now he's far too interested in the relationship between Derek Hale and Scott McCall to the point where I think we'll be here for much longer than I anticipated._

_Ethan and Aiden have spent weeks trying to convince me to join Beacon Hills High with them, but I'm not sure I can face that. Going back to high school is something I've wanted to do for months, but I'm just not sure I can face her, knowing what I've hidden from her. The pain that I've caused, and she doesn't even know the half of it - and she never can._

* * *

 "Would you please just go to Heather's birthday party? For me?" My mom pleads with me over breakfast. I look up from my bowl of Lucky Charms and scowl at her as fiercely as I can.

"But why mom?" I groan before taking another spoonful of cereal. She smiles at me as sweetly as she can muster and reaches her hand across the breakfast bar to take hold of my free hand.

"Because her mom told me she was worried that not many people would turn up, and you guys used to be close in elementary school."

"Used to be, being the operative phrase there, mother. I haven't seen her in years, and she used to bug the shit out of me as we got older, me and Mai-" I stop when I realise that reliving those memories might be painful. My mom gives a sad little smile at my slip up of almost saying her name. The name that still haunts me even now, not knowing where in the world she ended up.

"I'll let you take the car the whole weekend, you can go wherever you like, do whatever." She's clearly desperate to calm Heather's mom's worries, but getting something out of it myself makes it much more bearable. I'm already pretty convinced that tonight is going to be the most boring night of my life.

By seven, I'm dressed in my favourite black shirt with these mesh inserts and black jeans with a big chunky belt. If I'm not wearing my horrendously scuffed up Janoskis you can almost always find me in a pair of black chunky ankle boots. Practical, and I've got it on good authority that they're good for kicking people in.

When I thunder down the stairs, mom rolls her eyes at my outfit. "You look absolutely thrilled to be going to a party, oh what a joy it is to have a social life." She says sarcastically, and I stick my tongue out at her in defiance. I won't apologise for having a pretty dark colour orientated wardrobe.

The ride over to Heather's house feels a little like a death march, as I'm preparing myself to be thrust back into a room of people I spent my childhood trying to avoid. I never had many friends in elementary school, the boys made fun of me for being a 'tomboy', whatever the hell that meant, and the girls were never entirely sure they understood why I showed no interest in playing with Barbie dolls and plastic babies. I was seen as the 'weird kid', and while I got along with most of my classmates to a satisfying degree, there was always that inch of separation. Now, I realise it's because none of them are 'telekinetic' or whatever, but back then, even though by the age of seven I had discovered my abilities, I could never quite work out why we were different. I had a small handful of people who were somehow able to cross that degree of separation, like Lydia, and _her_. I'm thankful for finding an even bigger group of people who I can truly be myself around, and I try not to think too much about the prospect of having to find others if I choose to go to college in two years time.

"Have fun honey," Mom chimes as I open the car door and step out.

"See you at twelve." I say back monotonously, and begin the walk up the path to Heather's house. With every step the thumping of music becomes clearer and I start to feel a little less daunted, if there's loud music, chances are I might not have to force much conversation with people. With a sigh, I press the doorbell and moments later am greeted with Heather, a blue solo cup in hand. _There's alcohol, thank God._ I think as I force a grin onto my face, "Oh wow, Hazel!" She chirps at me, and pulls me in for a hug. "Welcome, come, I'll get you a drink."

We head through the throng of people toward the kitchen and I start to feel bad for thinking that this party would be a total bust, but I make a mental note to tell my mom that her friend Jane really shouldn't worry about her daughter's social skills anymore, but then what high schooler turns down a party? Heather pours some peach schnapps and lemonade into a cup for me and hands it to me with a smile.

"So, did you still hang out with any of the kids who went to Beacon Hills High with you from our elementary school?" Heather asks, leaning up against the counter.

I shrug, truthfully, I don't really. "Um, no, not really. I'm sure our circle probably cross paths somewhere though." I smile at her, a little awkwardly. We didn't have much in common in elementary school, and not much has changed. A few of her friends mill around us, and in a circle, they raise their cups into the air to her and she squeals in delight.

"It's my birthday!" Heather exclaims, and she tells me she'll be right back and leaves me to mingle with her friends, some of which I recognise but not enough to strike up much of a conversation with, I make a semi-awkward exit of the kitchen back towards the living room just in time to see Scott and Stiles walk through the front door.

"Stiles! Hi!" Heather heads over to him and just whilst he's in the middle of speaking she kisses him on the lips. My mouth falls open and I lock eyes with Scott, who's got this dumbfounded but also kinda pleased look about his face, which vanishes when he notices the look on my own face.

I feel as though I can't breathe, and within seconds I'm stomping out of the back door and into the garden where others are sat around chatting. I head as far away from other people as I can and try to slow my heart rate.

Whenever I'm not in control of my abilities it feels as though my fingertips have got pins and needles, or like there's some kind of itch I need to scratch but I know I shouldn't. I feel it starting, and I shut my eyes and take deep breaths to try and eradicate the need to let go.

Of course, a few moments later there are the footsteps behind me of a certain werewolf.

"Somebody's got a good night ahead of him, huh?" Scott jokes, peering round to look at me as I stand with my back to him. I turn around and the joking becomes an instant regret. "Okay, not the right thing to say, um," He drifts off, unsure of what to say. I can't blame him, _I'm_ not even sure what to say, or what just happened. All I know is it feels as though my chest is on fire and honestly I would like to chop Heather's stupid blonde head off.

Scott looks at his phone and frowns a little, and although I'm still feeling, well, whatever it is that I'm feeling, the tingling has stopped and I think that we're safe for now, everything is somewhat under control. "What is it?" I ask Scott, and he rolls his lips together.

"Missed call, and a text from Allison. She and Lydia are coming here, says they've got something we need to see." Scott says, and I welcome something else to think about other than what Heather has planned for Stiles in that basement.

"If it's something that will get us away from this party, I'm in." I say, and don't even wait for Scott to head out towards the front door. And just before we reach the door, Stiles comes flying down the stairs and almost collides with me.

"Watch where you're going." I snap at him and he takes a step back and shakes his head in disbelief at my tone. My gaze falls to the foil wrapper in his hand and I see red. I can't even contain my anger, and the lightbulb above us shatters into a million pieces. There are gasps and a few screams at the shock of the light going out, and I glare at Stiles in the darkness. Without another word I throw open the front door and head out to Allison and Lydia.

There's a confused look on both of their faces as I storm out into the night air, and Lydia opens her mouth to ask what just happened but I cut her off, "Don't even ask, Lyds." I say, throwing a hand up, and a car alarm sets off. "Oh for fucks sake." I grumble under my breath.

Allison always has this faint look of fear on her face every time I'm in a bad mood, which just so happens to be quite a lot of the time. I'm not entirely sure what she thinks I'm capable of, but if she finds me worrying, and there's a part of me that knows she's perfectly right to feel that way. I'm in no way, shape or form in control of whatever this is I've got. People have called it a gift, and to begin with, when I was a child, it felt like that. But now, it's more of a burden that's growing out of hand.

Scott approaches behind me, and suddenly my temper isn't the focus of attention anymore, giving me a chance to cool off.

"This isn't the talk we were gonna have, is it?" Scott says, and I turn to look at him. His expression is wary, and he's walking towards us tentatively, like if his foot falls to heavily against the ground that he might set off some kind of explosion.

Allison doesn't say anything, she just looks pained and shakes her head lightly. I look away, and Lydia catches my eye. We don't know what to say, and this awkwardness is enough to make me want the ground to swallow me whole. Or at least, it feels like Lydia and I shouldn't be here.

"I need to show you something." Allison finally says, and holds out her arm.

Scott and I both frown at it, the bruising on Allison's arm is bizarre, like an imprint of something, or an outline. Then Lydia holds her arm out towards us, and it's the exact same bruising only mirrored.

"Okay, what the hell?" I ask, before anyone else has chance to say anything.

"There was this girl, she turned up at school looking for Scott and she grabbed our arms and then… this." Lydia explains, and drops her arm to her side. It still makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever but then I've grown tired of trying to work anything out when it comes to the strange goings on of Beacon Hills. Chances are, whatever it is will become clear before long.

Scott is still frowning at the pattern, trying to work out what it means.

"We need to show it to someone who might know what it means, Deaton maybe?" Lydia suggests and I give a light shrug, Deaton is bound to have a better idea than we do.

"Maybe Derek or Peter will have a clue," I say, and everybody nods in agreement that sure enough, any of those three would have a much better idea than we do.

Scott looks at his watch for a second, it's not late, but this doesn't seem like the kind of thing we could bother Derek about at half eight on a Thursday night when it's not life or death. I'm pretty sure Derek Hale has a sliver of a life outside his werewolf duties.

"It can wait till the morning." Scott says.

"What can?" Comes a voice from behind us, and we all turn to see Stiles approaching from Heather's house.

Instantaneously I roll my eyes and turn back to face Lydia, knowing that if I pay him any attention I'll blow something else up, and this time it might be something bigger than a lightbulb.

"Ally, can you give me a ride home? I'm over this party." I ask, pretending that the ground Stiles stands on doesn't exist in my dimension.

She offers a slightly confused smile, but agrees just as I'm climbing into the backseat of her car.

Lydia and Allison chat quietly between themselves for the ride back to my house, both knowing that the last thing I want to do is talk about whatever it is that just happened back at Heather's house. All I can see is that stupid smile on Stiles' face when Heather kissed him and I don't know why it's bothering me so much, but I can't get the image out of my head. At this moment in time I want to erase every memory of tonight, pretend that I simply refused my mothers wishes and just lived with the consequences, which in hindsight probably wouldn't have been half as unbearable as this feeling is. I'd have just had to live with her stomping about the house for an evening, muttering about how I never do anything for her. But here I am, chest feeling like its on fire with rage, the feeling building again like I need to just let go but I'm pretty sure Allison wouldn't appreciate me blowing up her car or something, it's too risky to let my power get the better of me.

When we pull up outside my house I thank Allison and say goodnight to the girls, and Lydia looks at me without even trying to hide the worry from her features. I shrug at her, as if to explain the fact that I've no idea what's going on, and head up the path to my house. All I want to do is wrap myself in a blanket and curl up, far away from human interaction, strange bruises and dorky boys with the ability to turn me into an absolute lunatic.

* * *

I wake to seven missed calls, twelve texts and three Facebook messages. Two texts and a missed call from Lydia, the rest are all Stiles. I rub at my eyes with the back of my hand and yawn, placing my phone back on the bedside cabinet without any intention to answer those messages, or even read them, just yet. No doubt, I'm probably already running twenty minutes late for getting up for school, I'm hardly ever on time, but I can't quite muster up the ability to care right now. I flick my hand in the direction of my wardrobe, and the doors swing open. I roll onto my side to look at my wardrobe from the comfort of my bed, trying to decide what to wear to school.

Menial tasks like this don't present much of a risk of losing control over my abilities, and Deaton has told me time and time again that I need to use them. The more I repress, the more likely it is that I won't be able to stay somewhat in control of myself. I spot my favourite pair of blue jeans folded at the bottom of the wardrobe and they lift themselves out of the pile and move slowly towards my bed, which they fall and land on soundlessly. An old plaid shirt of my dad's is making its way over to me as a quiet knock comes at my bedroom door.

"Haze, are you decent?" Stiles asks and my mouth forms a straight line in irritation. I should've known from the overload of content on my phone that he wouldn't just stop at pestering me via technology.

"Absolutely starkers, actually." I lie, sitting up in my bed as the door swings open to reveal Stiles leant against the doorframe with one eyebrow raised.

"Doesn't look like it to me," He says and if he wasn't stood slightly in my room I'd have made the door slam shut in his face, but it starts to move slowly just because I think about slamming it, Stiles takes that cue to step fully into the room knowing full well I'll try to shut him out.

"What the hell happened last night, Murphy?" He asks, sitting down on the edge of my bed, slipping off his backpack onto the floor next to him.

I grab hold of a blanket and pull it over my head. I didn't even stay awake long enough last night to even try and process what had happened last night, so I'm coming up blank when trying to think of an excuse. Stiles shuffles up the bed and pulls the blanket up and drapes it over his head too, so that we're both hiding beneath it.

"The Hazel I know doesn't shatter lightbulbs and give me the death stare for nothing at all," He says quietly, and I just sigh at him. I don't have any logical thoughts forming, and I feel far too tired to even attempt to make sense of anything at all.

"This Hazel is losing a bit of her control every day, remember?" I remind him, something in the air changed this summer and that's when things started going wrong. It started with a bookcase exploding, littering the living room with shredded books and my brother stood looking at me dumbfounded. That was about two months ago. Before yesterday, we were up to eleven days without an incident - Stiles keeps count on a sticky note on his desk.

My brother clears his throat from the doorway and Stiles yanks the blanket off of us, and my brother is just stood looking at us with his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face before he starts chuckling and walks away.

"Go wait in the Jeep, I'll be down in ten." I say with a small smile, a pitiful attempt at convincing Stiles that I'm A-Okay.

When he shuts the door behind him I close my eyes and try to sort my shit out in about all of three seconds, with pretty abysmal results. I sigh, giving up and dressing quickly, dashing to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I grab my backpack on the way out to where Stiles is sat waiting for me in his blue Jeep.

On the ride over to school we talk about anything other than last night, mostly about Buffy the Vampire Slayer, our favourite show. Anything that isn't actually important, we talk about during that car journey.

I decide that everything is okay as Stiles cuts the engine when we arrive and smiles at me, there isn't a single reason for everything to get weird just because I almost cried bloody murder at him kissing some girl I went to elementary school with. It was a fluke, maybe Heather spiked my drink or something. Absolutely nothing to worry about at all.

"Are you more than excited for a wonderful day at Beacon Hills High?" Stiles jokes, and I don't even humour him with a response, merely rolling my eyes as I pull on the door handle and jump out, just as Scott pulls into the space next to us on his motorbike.

"Morning, McCall." I chime, in the most cheerful tone I can muster and when Scott pulls his helmet off he's almost laughing at how fake I sound when I attempt cheerful.

"Feeling better, I see." He remarks and I give his shoulder a light shove. He's got this annoying smirk on his face that makes me want to blow his bike into a million pieces, the same smirk the Sheriff has every time I walk into his house and the same smirk my brother had on his face not thirty minutes ago. A smirk that I can't quite work out the reason behind.

"Haze..." Stiles begins, and nods his head at something behind me. I turn, and I honestly can't believe my eyes. Maisie. Maisie Dylan is walking down the steps towards me. She hasn't noticed me yet, but I'm frozen to the spot in disbelief, my best friend who has been AWOL for the past two years is here, she's come home.

When she disappeared it was without any warning, leaving behind a note that said, "I'm sorry Haze, please don't look for me." I completely disregarded that, of course, and spent months searching for her. Eventually, with absolutely no luck in my search, I gave up hoping that one day she'd come home and explain everything. And now here she is, walking down a staircase in Beacon Hills High next to the new kids - twin brothers, to be precise.

Once I manage to theoretically pick my jaw up from the floor I don't even hesitate, I start squealing like a five year old and I'm running full pelt at Maisie, exclaiming her name at an almost inaudible pitch. When I wrap my arms around her, she feels stiff and uncomfortable but she acts as though she's pleased to see me.

"Oh my gosh, Hazel." She says when I finally let her go, "It's been _so_ long." It feels a little too rehearsed and polite, and I take a step away from her, trying not to let the frown show on my face.

I turn my head to look back at Stiles and Scott, the latter of which is looking a little too like he's tuning into his werewolf senses for my liking, and I realise that he's staring at the boys Maisie is with. I peer around her shoulder at them, and then back at Maisie.

"Friends from wherever you've been?" I ask, not able to hide the hurt in my voice at having absolutely no clue where she's been for the past two years.

She smiles at me, a forced smile, and nods. "Yeah, step-brothers, actually. Mom remarried." She explains, and I hate the part of me that doesn't believe a single word she's saying. This girl in front of me might look exactly like my Maisie, but it's not the same girl she used to be - no supernatural abilities are needed to feel that radiating from her.

"I gotta get to the Principal's office for a welcome meeting or whatever, but I'll catch up with you at lunch Hazel?" She says, and I try not to recoil at the politeness. I nod at her and smile as honestly as I can, and scrunch my nose up in the affectionate way we used to at each other. I step aside, and before she's even out of sight Scott and Stiles are at my side asking one million questions that I don't even know where the answers to them begin.


End file.
